


Thin Walls

by ajf



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajf/pseuds/ajf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet set post-finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thin Walls

Thin walls. Cheap hotels always had thin walls. The rhythmic thudding from the room next to Cassidy wasn’t muffled, wasn’t filtered, coming through loud and clear, each _thud_ like a punch to his gut.

Jesse and Tulip had to know. They knew and they didn’t care. The pair of them were the devil. He couldn’t hate them for it, though. He couldn’t imagine any scenario of hating Tulip at all. If she ever stuck a literal knife in his literal heart, he’d only clap both hands over the hole to keep from bleeding on her shoes.

And how could he hate Jesse for making her so happy?

_She was happy that one night with you_ , a dark voice whispered.

_No she bloody wasn’t_ , the honest part of himself argued back. He’d given her what she needed in the backseat of that car, but she was only halfway there in the first place, a gorgeous ghost he’d desperately wanted to fuck back into the land of the living.

She’d probably been thinking of Jesse the whole time.

He stretched out on the thin mattress next to the thin wall, laced his shaking hands behind his head and tried to figure a way out of this. He’d escaped far stickier situations. It wasn’t like he didn’t have options. Gear up against the sun and take a walk. Blast the loudest channel on the clock radio. Eat a fistful of benzodiazepines.

Somehow, he couldn’t move an inch. Instead, he watched as a little trickle of beige dust spilled down the wall, some plastered-over hole knocked loose by the vibrations. Jesse had to be on top by the sound of the weight, setting a hard pace and not wasting any breath because all the moans were coming from Tulip. He pictured her chin tipped back, throat taut, her tiny, ridiculously perfect tits trembling just a touch every time Jesse’s hips slammed into hers.

Jesus, her moans. The walls were thick enough to swallow consonants so that he couldn’t tell _hard_ from _God_ or _good_ or _give,_ but there was a _Jesse_ plain as day and what had to be a long-drawn out _yes_ …

He couldn’t hate them. Maybe because he didn’t want to be anywhere else than where he was right now, paralyzed and hypnotized, breathing through tight-clenched teeth to the same evil rhythm that shook the walls.

Only one thing left to do.

_You’ll hate yourself_ , a voice whispered as he moved his hand down to his cock for a _very_ sorely needed wank.

“Fuck off,” he whispered right back. Bloody stupid voice.

He smiled to himself as he shouldered a little closer to the wall. The sounds had stopped taunting him. They urged him on instead, and a warm feeling slipped into his blood.

_Jesse. Yes._

He couldn’t hate them. And now, he couldn’t even hate the thin walls.


End file.
